


Hidden Pastimes

by littleweepingdalek



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 13:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleweepingdalek/pseuds/littleweepingdalek
Summary: Sure, everyone's got a hobby. But that doesn't mean that the entirety of your workplace needs to know.





	Hidden Pastimes

The soft scribbling of numbers and signs on the paper were, mingled with tired breathing and occasional yawning, all the sound that filled the office. A few hours past the late shift at UNIT HQ, the Brigadier found himself chained to a particular nasty task involving not only equations, but also Pythagoras's theorem as well as a favourite of his: fractures. A whole lot of them.

He'd tried it three times already, all times being slightly wrong. But nevertheless, he didn't pack his things.

Not before he had finished this. After all, he wouldn't let a maths book stop him!

"Brigadier?"

A voice.

"What are you still doing here?"

Miss Shaw.

Oh no.

Hastily, he swooped an arm over the desk, hiding the book in a drawer. He crumpled up the calculations and threw them into the wastebin before folding his hands neatly on his desk, an innocent smile on his face. All in a matter of mere seconds.

"I believe I could ask you the same question." He retorted, watching as she closed the office door behind her and sat down in a chair. Paranoid as he was, he suspected her to say something at any moment. Most likely she could even sense that something was amiss..

Her gaze scrutinized him, as he had feared.

Not revealing anything was hard when Liz Shaw looked at you like that, as if you yourself were a science project worth solving.

She squinted her eyes then, and raised her chin: "Are you feeling uneasy, Brigadier?"

"Why would I?"

She shrugged. "You look.. hot. Somehow not quite right. Do you have a fever?"

"I. uh.."

"Or is the heating system faulty again? They sent someone in last week for the laboratory but perhaps-"

The Brigadier shook his head, trying to avoid a conversation. "No, it's not that.. I.. should get home. It's late."

Liz turned around and had a swift look at the clock dangling above the door. Past twelve already. She nodded. "Yes, I see. After midnight. I should be off, too.." She drove a weary hand through her hair.

To be frank, the Brigadier didn't know which demon planted those following words in his mouth, probably the one of sense and good manners. Just as quick as he had found an excuse to actually leave this precarious situation, he heard himself offering: "Should I give you a lift?"

"Huh?"

"You're.. You don't have a car."

Funnily enough, he hadn't thought about it beforehand, but now that he did, it occured to him that Miss Shaw was regularly escorted to work by the Doctor, who happened to drive Bessie around in London each day anyways just for the fun. He also knew that there were buses that left every now and then, but UNIT HQ was not actually _that_ close to the real city of London and the buses that did came arrived only once an hour after nine pm.

Liz remained bewildered for yet another moment, before realizing what he had meant.

"Oh, right... Well, thank you a lot." She grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulders whilst he grabbed his keys and jacket. The rest could stay here, he'd be back in the morning. Unfortunate for the task, though. That, among other things, would have to wait.

 

As per usual, he had parked directly next to the entrance, as befitted the leader of this institute. They sat down inside the car and buckled their seat belts.

Soon enough, they found themselves in the rather awkward position induced by silence.

Only that strange, wordless staring out of the windscreen. In the background, the tires were running along the tracks, passing trees and road signs every now and then.

The Brigadier cleared his throat. "So... Where exactly is your place?"

She quickly gave her address. Which did relief the tension for a moment. But after mentally figuring out the route to the apartment and agreeing on which road was the best to take, they were left in the same situation.

Only with less to talk about.

"So..." started Liz, mimicking his own previous attempt at starting up a conversation. "In case you're wondering, do not _ever_ assign me to just 'have a quick but informative look at that Nestene remains' when the Doctor has already left and I know as much about an alien life form as I do about.. soccer."

"Duly noted."

"Seriously, that thing is interesting but complex. Even if you would not think so, for for all its obsession with _plastic_." She leaned her head against the window, the cold glass softly vibrating against her temple.

"And what were you doing there?" she asked.

There it was, the dreaded question.

"Paperwork" he answered a fraction too quickly.

Liz raised an eyebrow. "At midnight? What file was so important that it couldn't be done tomorrow?"

He bit his lower lip. She had a point there. What should he say? That there was no rush in getting home, Kate would already be fast asleep and he'd get tangled up in a fight with Fiona, so he'd rather stay at work and do maths exercises?

Now, he didn't have much of a choice, did he? Once the Doctor would get a whimp of him trying to hide something, he'd rummage through the entire HQ to find it, probably leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. The Brigadier took a deep breath before muttering: "I was doing maths."

As expected, Liz seemed to be taken aback with the answer. "Maths?" she repeated, trying to make sure she didn't just overhear something other.

"I.. um.. It calms me." The Brigadier explained horribly. He wanted to stop then but the words kept flowing out of his mouth.

"I know, everyone says it's horrible and agonizing but I genuinely love it. Back at school, it was my absolute favourite subject. I even.. I hoped to be a teacher one day, show kids the real face of maths. It doesn't want to hurt you, or mock you for being stupid.. It's purely logical. You know, sometimes this job can really work me out, and then I like to grab my calculator and just.. maths. Preoccupy myself with something other than alien invasions and impending doom. It‘s silly, in a way."

"No, that's.. " A hobby, was her first thought. Everyone has a hobby, that's natural. But the Brigadier? To Liz, it felt as though the Brigadier was nothing but a vessel, consumed by the military mind, disguised as a man. The moustache probably served to hide the control switch.

To be frank, she hadn't beared many thoughts about the character behind the facade. Of course, she knew he was married and had a daughter, Kate...

That was about it, Liz realized, with a peak of horror and shame. She knew about the Doctor‘s shenanigans. About Benton‘s adventures of last Friday. She knew more about the tea lady that discreetly placed the Darjeeling on her desk than her boss.

"I didn't think about it," she confessed. "But of course everyone has a hobby."

"So it seems, but mine's embarassing."

"Why would you think that?"

He snorted. "Why? Look at the Doctor. If he finds out about this small of passion of mine, he'd laugh. 'Really, Alistair, that's what I did when I was in my extraterrestrial elementary school! Oh no, beware the military starting to think _rational_!'"

It was intended to be funny, but that was the reality embedded in it. A bitter, sad outlook on life, and the Doctor-ish sneer was way too perfectly executed to arouse some laughter.

The pain these sentences put into Liz' chest were inconceivable.

She was sure he liked the Doctor. Hell, everyone did. But it was true. He could be an ass sometimes. He didn't intend to, maybe he didn't know better, or he thought his words could not penetrate the hard shell of his companions.. After all, weren't they just words, spoken among friends? And when he directed them at his sometimes highly aggravating military friend, wasn't that alright?

"I won't tell him."

"Thank you, Miss Shaw."

"You know, as long as you don't tell him about my profound love for jazz songs my university friends awakened. No to mention the collateral damage that is my capacity to sing to each and every Presley song."

His eyes widened, staring at her before breaking out into silent laughter. He really hadn't expected that. Sure, he knew Miss Shaw had to like some kind of music. And jazz, now that he thought of it, did fit.

But _Elvis_? Had you put a gun to his head and asked him what musician's lines she had in her blood surrogate, he'd have said Ella Fitzgerald, maybe Doris Day.. He would've never guessed it to be Elvis. That was nearly as startling a match as him and maths.

No, even that seemed more likely.

As a remark, she hit him lightly. "Don't look at me like that, maths boy!"

"I'm sorry, it's just.. really? Every single one?"

"Yeah. Can _you_ sing any Presley song?"

He turned to look at her with a raised a eyebrow. "Miss Shaw, I am not a dinosaur."

"Which one?"

"Puh.. Jailhouse Rock? Was released a little after I joined the military."

"You call yourself not a prehistoric being and mention something as ancient as that?" She leant back in the seat, eyes wandering up to meet the road signs.

The Brigadier took a turn, ending up in Liz' street. Neat and organized as he was, he looked for a free parking space to stop when he let her out, instead of simply stopping in the middle of the road like any normal person do at these hours.

As the car slowly settled into its alcove between a battered Ford and the Opel Kapitän that belonged to the elderly neighbour, Liz grabbed her bag. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem, Miss Shaw."

He watched as she headed out the door, shut it behind her and sauntered towards her apartment building. A shadow in the night, she vanished in the entrance. The Brigadier waited until he could see a dim light flickering up on the third floor before placing his hands on the wheel again.

That is when he heard the music chiming down.

When he looked up, he saw a slender figure dancing in the window. Red hair flowing in the air, still wearing the UNIT lab coat above her regular clothes. Her mouth moving in perfect sync with the lyrics, yet she left the singing part to Elvis. At the sight of it, the Brigadier had to grin.

She must have planned this, for just before the refrain was repeated, she looked down to see the smile that she hadelicited... She beamed with joy. One hand gestured for him to come up before she closed down the window for her poor neighbour's sake.

The Brigadier later couldn't recall his feet carrying him upstairs, but somehow he did manage. A few hops, and he was greeted by Liz, waiting in the doorway to her small apartment.

"This is mad." He stated.

Liz didn't answer. Alternately, she reached for his hand, before drawing him inside and twirling around. The music, although not much louder than their ongoing conversation, roared through his mind.

"I cannot even dance." He confessed.

"Shall I tell you a secret?" Liz said, before leaning forwards on her toes, touching his ear with her lips. "Neither can I."

"Just move," she advised, doing so herself. Shaking lightly from left to right, arms swaying It was so surreal. Him suddenly standing here in his colleagues flat, her dancing in front of him. All he started the night with was a plain math task, and now he fumbled with his fingers because he didn't know what to do.

Luckily, he received help. Liz took his hands again into hers again. He looked into her eyes.

Then he didn't feel stiff anymore. His body did start to move to the music, and albeit it was amateurish and sort of an eyesore to every professional dancer that ever walked the Earth, it felt amazing.

They twirled each other around, and Liz‘ head leant back in a delighted laugh. The Brigadier couldn‘t help but fall in love.

The song ended eventually, way too soon. Liz turned away, panting, and knelt down on the floor, where the gramophone rested in a corner. She threw one glance at him.

"It's.. late, isn't it? I'm a little night owl, sorry if I hold you up.." She casually scratched the skin behind her ear.

The Brigadier followed her gaze and caught sight of a large grandfather clock behind him. It had taken them more than half an hour to get here. It was true, he should be getting home by now.

Then again, he decided, a bit of time spent here wouldn't hurt. Soon enough he'd find himself tangled up in a dispute again. Somewhere unpleasant, and then he'd regret leaving early.

He knelt down next to her. "What is your favourite?" He inquired, genuine interest lighting up in his eye. He lowered his gaze. "Perhaps I can hear you sing?"

"Oh, I'd rather not. I said I _can_ sing in theory, but not that I actually have the voice to do so."

Alistair leant forward. "Me neither."

Liz‘ mouth stood open"...That was good."

He cocked his head. "Please?"

At first it seemed hopeless. He lost the thought as it had crossed his mind, but then Liz' slender figures retrieved a different disc from another cover and gently put it inside. The diamond needle graced over the rills, turning the surface into sound.

She licked her lips, and softly started to sing along to a song he did not recall, but felt the need to get to know. Armed with an interest of such rough ferocity that is usually found in children, they lost themselves in the music, forgetting all worries.

 

They didn't stop with that song. Nor with the one after that. In fact, even old Miss Mayer showing up and chasting them for playing their music at this ungodly hour could only make them turn off the gramophone, but not their singing.

When the Doctor appeared in the next morning to bring Liz to work, he frowned. Never before did he have to ring three times for Liz to get down. He did not expect having to sonic the bell, as to wake her up with a brutal screech.

What he certainly didn't expect was to see the Brigadier crawling into Bessie's backseat, not Liz. He raised his brows, contemplating whether he‘d accidentally ended up in a different place altogether, but Alistair calmed him between a few heartfelt yawns.

"Miss Shaw'll be down here in a minute, Doctor" he was informed.

The Doctor was so baffled he was still staring when Liz heaved herself up into the roadster.

"Hello?" She snapped with her finger in front of his face, the other one offering a fresh sandwich. "We should get going."

To his benefit, probably, the Doctor didn't ask any questions. He did notice how Liz would after this day often take a little long when leaving the laboratory to get some coffee, but in his mind it was all due to those infernal 20th century coffee machines that were basically made from scrap, barely even capable of producing an alright beverage.

In reality, though, the Brigadier would wait somewhere outside the building, sitting cross-legged on a bench, some paper and onto that tasks spread out before him.

Liz peeked over his shoulder. "You didn't exaggerate. That's a tricky one.." she muttered, her mind already moving on from discussions about test tubes to finding out what the hell was going on with this fracture...

Alistair handed her a pencil and she began scribbling.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask me why it's Elvis, a friend gave me that one earworm that hasn't stopped since last June.
> 
> Have a nice day, dear reader!


End file.
